new zealand electronic poetry centre

Leigh Davis


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Here they come David, droning over the
ranges pale red, beating up

in formation, seven to a group,
angels, their stiff little wings and spaces

between their wings, down from the escarpments,
such distant looming chanters it's a long

coast.. such calm remembering men,
silent, many previous, redoubtable

here they come David, uncommon,
metrical, their small primitive radios..

pick them out (on such a wide day)
their strange coherent insignia steady,

resounding, speaking air craft that's the way
it goes.. (few are standing by).

 

 


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Last updated 5 October, 2009